


Stuck on Stage 1

by Raisans_The_Fandom_Vortex



Series: Stuck on Stage 1 [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is not okay, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Eliza is super sad, F/M, Hallucinations, Historical Inaccuracy, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, John's death, M/M, Multi, Philip is sad, Sorry Not Sorry, everyone is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9625037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raisans_The_Fandom_Vortex/pseuds/Raisans_The_Fandom_Vortex
Summary: Alex is not taking this how anyone thought he would.





	

It was a sunny day. The sky was a pure blue, not scared by a single cloud. A breeze sweeps the New York City streets, tugging at the vibrant leaves of trees and bushes alike. The perfect August day. Many took a walk in the park with their one and only. Kids chased each other in the cobblestone streets. The storefronts lining the roads had a steady flow of customers.

 

And where is Hamilton on such a fine day?

 

In his office, seated at his desk, writing to John yet again.

 

What the hell were you expecting?

 

Alexander hummed the drinking song they sung when the world turned upside down in Yorktown. Words to his best friend with benefits seamlessly flowed from thought to pen more so than usual. The day had given the immigrant a spring in his step and a tug at his smile. Everything felt right in the world.

 

Alex was so lost in his writings, that Eliza entering his domain  completely went under the radar. It wasn't until she spoke up, did he acknowledge her presence.

 

“Alexander. There's a letter for you from South Carolina.”

 

Alex quirked an eyebrow to her tone. She sounded worried. Antsy. But it was such a beautiful day, that even Alexander Hamilton managed to relax. What could possibly have her tensed.

 

Instead of taking her tone seriously, he simply waved her off, not breaking away from the parchment in front of him. He dismissed the note, saying, “It's from John Laurens I'll read it later!”

 

Eliza bit her lip. She studied him as she responded, cautious of his response. “No, it's from his father.” There was no other way to put it.

 

Alexander stopped. He mumbled out, “his father?,” The two words barely audible to Eliza. He put his quill back in in the ink jar, but never turning to her. He gripped the table, fearing the worst. “Can you read it?”

 

Eliza opened the envelope. The tearing sound rung in Hamilton's ears. The moment seemed to drag, suspense lingering above the married couple, making the air seem thicker. Alex found it hard to breathe.

 

“On Tuesday the 27th, my son was killed in a gunfight against British troops retreating from South Carolina. The war was already over. As you know, John dreamed of emancipating and recruiting 3000 men for the first all-black military regiment   
  
His dream of freedom for these men dies with him.”

 

Alex's stomach dropped. He felt sick. Tears already warped the letter to Laurens he had made. Alexander looked up, out his window. The bright, summer day only sickened him more. He felt the bile rising in his throat. His eyes stung from the tears. How can the outside world he so cheery, when another person in Hamilton's life has been torn away from him? His shoulders shook as suppressed sobs beat his lungs.  _ It couldn't be true. It can't be true. Please God please, don't let it be true!  _

 

“Hammy?”

 

Alexander perked up at the old nickname. The voice of a dead man is unmistakable. Alex looks for the source of this practical joke, only to find the real deal.

 

John leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and a playful smirk on his face. His eyes glinted with mischief. Alexander almost broke down right there. He couldn't form words. The happiness overwhelmed him.

 

“Why are you crying Alex? Did someone die?” Laurens said it in a joking manner, not to be taken seriously.

 

Alexander just laughed, and wiped his eyes. “I thought so… but you're here!” Hamilton stood up, and took a few steps towards his dear friend, embracing him.

 

John chuckled, and patted Alex's back. “Hey! This isn't like you! Are you sure you're Alexander Hamilton?” Alexander laughed at John's humor, thanking God that he wouldn't be missing this.

 

* * *

 

 

Eliza was heartbroken. She was a sobbing mess. He hair was a disheveled, tangled mess, and her once glimmering black eyes, were now dull with sorrow. She had given up on wearing makeup. It would run off anyway.

 

Eliza sat at the dinner table, arms folded on the wood, a 5 year old Philip sat across from her, looking slightly dejected, but not to Eliza's extent. He hasn't been dealing with this for as long as she has.

 

In the background, in some other room, there was Alexander. He wouldn't be joining them for dinner again. Eliza sighed. You could hear the echos of a conversation.

 

Eliza Hamilton stood, and followed the sound till she came to Alexander's study. He sat in his chair. He looked even worse than Eliza, only because of his signature bags under his eyes, and the haze that clouded them.

  
Alexander Hamilton babbled about something, gesturing, smiling, and laughing at the wall he faced.


End file.
